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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27457939">Nobody's There</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/voiceless_terror/pseuds/voiceless_terror'>voiceless_terror</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Prompt Fills [8]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>The Magnus Archives (Podcast)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Angst, Bit of Jon/Martin, Gen, Hallucinations, Jon Needs to Sleep, Sickfic, prompt, season two</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 17:15:01</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>1</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>2,609</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27457939</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/voiceless_terror/pseuds/voiceless_terror</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“L-Look!” he whispered urgently, pointing ahead. “Someone- someone’s there?”</p>
<p>“Where, Jon?” Sasha’s voice beside him was amused, playful. “I don’t see a thing.”</p>
<p>Jon hasn't slept and hallucinates a familiar face while on an investigation with the Archives crew.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Prompt Fills [8]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1921006</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>12</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>170</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>Nobody's There</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/postapocalyptic_cryptic/gifts">postapocalyptic_cryptic</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>For Shannon's great prompt: Hi ily and I love bothering people with prompts, so I'm requesting "a character who’s so exhausted his hands are trembling, his eyes are dull/unfocused, he’s starting to hallucinate… and his team needs him to stay awake" with Jon and literally anyone at any time (except s5 because it's too emotionally taxing for me to keep up with oop-)</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p> </p>
<p>“And you’re <em>sure</em> this requires all four of us?”<b><br/></b></p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yes, Jon,” Elias sighed, his annoyance clear even through the phone. “Believe it or not, I <em>am</em> trying to help you. You’ve managed to alienate almost all of your staff, so perhaps this will do you some good. You seem to enjoy ‘following-up’ these days, unlike in your first months in the position.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>That stung a bit.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>It wasn’t his fault someone had died in the Archives, and that someone happened to be his predecessor. It was a natural reaction to feel some paranoia, though he will admit he might have gone a little...overboard, in some of his investigations. Tim certainly thought so. Sasha was her usual cool, aloof self avoiding him as much as possible. Martin was the only one that treated him the same, probably better than he deserved after accusing the man of being a possible murderer. He dragged him out to lunches and hovered in the evenings when Jon stayed late. He was the one who accompanied him to the clinic after his incident with Michael. Jon couldn’t help the ache that went through his chest when he saw Martin still in the lobby, waiting to take him home and fussing over his bandages. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Walking him to his door.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And now Elias, of all people, was deciding to be more ‘hands-on’ after the intervention. The intervention where even Martin held him at arm's length, though he was still the friendliest face in the room. If this meant keeping his job, he would do it. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Though he wasn’t so sure he even liked his job anymore. But Jon kept pushing forward. He needed answers. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>Telling his assistants was another story. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>He stood in front of them, knowing he looked a mess. He’d seen himself in the mirror this morning after another failed attempt at rest. His hair was a mess, the dark circles under his eyes were turning a lurid purple. He looked waxy and gaunt and nothing he could do now would fix it. So he kept drinking his tepid black coffee and cheap energy drinks; frankly, they were the only thing keeping him going.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Nevertheless, he didn’t exactly inspire confidence.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Seriously, Jon?” Tim wasn’t fond of using ‘boss’ anymore, not unless he was feeling particularly vicious. “It would be fine with two of us. Me and Martin can go and take shifts. You look like the living dead.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Tim,” Martin admonished, shooting him a look. “He’s right, though. You don’t look well, and I don’t think an all-night stake out is what you need right now. I mean, why are we even following up on this? It’s just some ‘vampire’ sighting that’s not going to pan out. Don’t we have more important things to be focusing on?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Elias insisted,” Jon tried for apologetic but must have missed the mark, judging by Tim’s narrowing eyes. “I’m- I wouldn’t make you do this, but I’m afraid-”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Why does Elias even care about this?” Tim interrupted, slamming his drawer shut dramatically. The sound made Jon flinch- that wasn’t hard to do these days. “Did you even <em>try</em> to get out of it?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Of course I did,” Jon bristled. “I know- I know the last thing anyone wants to do is spend time with me. This wasn’t my idea-”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s a bit hard to believe, Jon,” Sasha’s voice was mocking, though it remained light and easy. Sasha was always ready with a barb or a joke, mostly at Jon’s expense. “I’d think you’d enjoy this sort of thing- stalking, investigating. Or is that just with your co-workers?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Tim snickered. Even Martin had a bit of a smile on his face, though he tried to hide it. Jon felt his face flush red. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“That’s not,” Jon began a defense but quickly backtracked, knowing it would be futile. “Elias wanted us to go tomorrow night. It’s about thirty minutes away, so if you don’t mind driving, Tim-”</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>“Anything</em> for you, boss,” Tim muttered. “If you could try sleeping before then, that would be great. I filled my quota on catching you collapsing on the job.” The words were unnecessarily sharp and hurt Jon more than he cared to admit. He remembered a time when Tim was always around to lend him a hand, conscientious and kind. But he’d gone and ruined that now, hadn't he?</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ll be fine,” Jon straightened his back, refusing to meet anyone’s eyes. Tim snorted and turned back to his desk, Sasha did the same. Martin just stood there, giving Jon an appraising eye. It made him feel like he failed an exam or came up short on an examination.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>
  <em>This should be fun.</em>
</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Sleep eluded him for all but an hour that night. The face that greeted him in the morning looked even more horrific than the day before; Tim wasn’t far off in his assessment. He said as much as Jon entered the office.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Christ, this is going to be fun,” Tim rolled his eyes and leaned back in his chair as Jon hunched in on himself, defensively clutching his extra-large coffee.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I <em>did</em> sleep,” he bit out, avoiding the man’s eyes. It was true.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sure. Just try taking a fucking nap this afternoon, okay?” The words sounded almost concerned, but Jon knew better. “I’m not listening to you snore in the backseat all night.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ll try,” Jon grumbled as he exited the room. A sudden sting hit his hand and he hissed; coffee had spilled from the lid of his to-go cup and was now running a scalding stream down his arm. His hand was shaking, a steady and insistent tremor that refused to calm despite his best efforts. </p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>I’ll sleep this afternoon, </em>he promised himself. <em>Something’s gotta give eventually, right?</em></p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>Jon was wrong. <em>Just my luck.</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>After two fruitless hours of tossing and turning, he finally gave up, leaving the office to grab a couple of energy drinks that he could hide in his bag. And now he was loaded in the backseat of Tim’s car, his heartbeat erratic and his chest tight. Martin had provided them all with coffee, though he handed Jon his with some reluctance.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Are you sure you’re okay-”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“For the last time, yes, Martin!” The words came out harsher than he intended and Martin flinched back, avoiding Jon’s eyes as he got into the passenger seat beside Tim.</p>
<p><br/><br/>“Don’t yell, Jon,” Tim commanded as he started the car. “God, you always were a right bastard when you’re sleep-deprived.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“M’ sorry, Martin,” he mumbled to the ground. It was easier to focus on something stationary- whenever he looked out the window, his vision blurred and nausea churned in his stomach. <em>And that’s why you don’t have energy drinks on an empty stomach. Stupid, stupid.</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s fine, Jon.” It didn’t feel fine.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>By the time they arrived at the park where the supposed sightings took place, it was already dark. Tim had the radio playing softly in the background as he and Martin murmured in the front seats, a low sound Jon couldn’t hear. He wondered if they were talking about him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>Not everything’s about you.</em> He shivered in his seat, drawing his coat tighter around his body. Sasha shot him a glance; she always had the hint of a smile on her lips, cold and calculating. As if Jon’s situation was amusing to her. Maybe it is.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>He wished Martin was back here with him. Martin was warm, solid, and steady; Jon craved that, embarrassing as it was. But Martin likely didn’t want to be around him; unsurprising, with how Jon’s behaved.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The steady drone of sound was pleasant, a nice background hum that relaxed him incrementally. The occasional heart palpitations were starting to slow, and Jon felt himself relaxing for the first time in days. It was a sweet, blissful relief- surely a small nap wouldn’t be terrible, just enough to keep him going through the night-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>A sharp jab in his side jolted him awake. He shot up with a yelp to find Sasha smirking, her face unreadable. “Don’t sleep on the job, boss.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sorry, sorry,” he whispered, rubbing at his eyes and wishing for just a short reprieve. But the blurriness was worse now and his heart was back to its erratic rhythm- Sasha’s rude awakening had done its job.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Maybe try looking out the window,” Tim suggested sarcastically. “We are here to do a job, you know. Not so you can zone out and sleep.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“R-Right.” Jon didn’t mention that nobody else seemed to be doing the same. Still, he focused on the dim light emanating from the one streetlamp in the park. It was just an empty field at the edge of the woods. It would be hard to miss anything.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>This went on for an hour, Sasha continually nudging him awake whenever he started to drift off. She was probably doing him a favor- who knows what horrors lurked in his nightmares, and the last thing he needed was to wake up screaming like a lunatic. He imagined word getting round to Elias that he was falling apart, even more unstable than previously thought. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>And then something moved out of the corner of his eye- a small, dark shadow was standing in the middle of the park, barely visible by the light of the streetlamp. Jon let out a choked gasp as he leaned forward, hitting the back of Tim’s seat.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“L-Look!” he whispered urgently, pointing ahead. “Someone- someone’s there?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Where, Jon?” Sasha’s voice beside him was amused, playful. “I don’t see a thing.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Right there!” He insisted, and as if on cue the figure began moving forward, edging closer to the light. “It’s <em>moving!” </em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Jon,” Tim started, looking back at him with an inquisitive gaze. His voice was slow and measured. “What are you talking about? There’s nothing there.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“There <em>is!”</em>  He was aware he was begging now, a pathetic plea to just <em>look, it’s right there, can’t you see?</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>Martin reached a hand to his shoulder, all concern and worry. “Jon, I promise you there’s-”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>And that’s when the figure revealed itself, standing clear under the light. It was a woman, tall and sad. Her long hair was pulled back from her face with a headband, and she had round glasses and looked so, <em>so</em> familiar-</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>Sasha,</em> his mind supplied. That’s not right. Sasha’s right beside him.</p>
<p> </p>
<p><em>Sasha.</em> It was insistent this time. Jon put a shaking hand to the door handle and wrenched it open, practically falling out of the car as the others protested behind him. But he paid them no mind and stumbled forward on weak legs. There were footsteps behind him but it didn’t matter because <em>Sasha’s there Sasha’s there-</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>And then she was gone.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>The park was silent and still, almost serene. And Jon stood under the lamp, his chest heaving and his heart racing until he collapsed in the soft, dewy grass. Sasha was in the car. Sasha wasn’t here. <em>But it doesn’t make sense.</em> He gagged, hands and knees digging into the earth as nothing came up but a small amount of bile and coffee. A hand went to his shoulder but he wrenched it off, a frustrated moan bubbling out of his throat as his eyes filled with tears.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sasha was here,” he wailed, no longer caring if he made a scene. <em>“Sasha was here!”</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Jon? Oh fuck, oh <em>God</em> what do we do, something’s wrong-”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Just pick him up, Martin, get him back in the car!”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jon was hauled to his feet but his legs were shaky and useless; Martin cursed and scooped him up instead, unbearably gentle. He tugged at Martin’s shirt, desperate for someone to listen. “Sasha,” he hiccupped but Martin just hushed him, squeezing him tighter to his chest. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Sasha’s in the car, Jon,” He whispered soothingly as Tim opened the car door. “See? Right there!” Sasha, with her wrong smile and her wrong face and her cold, <em>cold</em> hands-</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jon let out a shriek, thrashing and kicking as Martin tried to place him in the backseat by that <em>thing.</em> “No no no,” he cried and tugged at Martin’s jumper. “I don’t want to <em>I don’t want to-”</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Get in the front, Sash,” Tim commanded, something unreadable in his eyes. “He’s not going to stop freaking out until you do. Martin can sit in the back.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“So fussy,” she said mildly as she opened the door and did as Tim said. “Is he going to be okay?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Jon could barely follow the conversation as Martin awkwardly crawled into the backseat and tried to maneuver him into his seatbelt. But Jon couldn’t let go because Martin was real and there and the only thing holding him together at the moment. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Just drive,” Martin’s voice was hard and unlike him, but he squeezed Jon tighter to his chest and that was all he needed to finally give into the darkness at the edge of his vision.</p>
<p> </p>
<hr/>
<p> </p>
<p>When he next woke he was tucked into a bed- his own, strangely. Light filtered gently into the room and Jon felt like he’d been run over by a truck several times over; every part of him aching and groaning as he attempted to sit up. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Jon?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Martin stood in the doorway, the picture of anxiety and worry. “God, I thought you’d never wake!” He hurried over to the side of the bed and placed a hand to his forehead that Jon leaned into. “You don’t feel warm. You’ve been asleep for almost sixteen hours. Are you okay?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Define ‘okay,’” Jon croaked, leaning back into the pillows. Sixteen hours but he still felt like hammered shit. “What- what happened? Why am I here?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“You don’t remember?” Martin’s voice somehow managed to sound more worried. “God, you were- you were <em>really</em> out of it, Jon. Ranting about Sasha- you wouldn’t get near her. I thought we should take you to the hospital but Tim insisted you wouldn’t like that.” Tim was always the one who knew him best. “He had a key so we dropped you off, but I thought someone should stay behind- I mean, is that okay? I don’t want to overstep or anything, but you were really bad and I couldn’t-”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“It’s fine, Martin,” Jon cut him off gently. It was touching, in a way, that Martin would want to look out for him after the fit he apparently threw. “I, uh- thank you, I guess.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Really, it’s no problem,” Martin said, leaning back on his heels and fiddling with his hands. “I-I didn’t want to leave you alone, and I didn’t think you’d want to wake up to Tim or Sasha-”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“God,” Jon groaned and slumped over in bed, shame coursing through his veins. ‘“I’ll have to apologize to her tomorrow.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Yeah,” Martin agreed, though not unkindly. “But I think she’ll understand. You were exhausted, it’s not like you meant it.” <em>I suppose that’s true,</em> he thought. <em>Just my paranoia out of control.</em></p>
<p> </p>
<p>“I’ll make us some tea. You stay in bed, okay?” </p>
<p> </p>
<p>“A-Alright.” Martin turned to leave the room but a thought logged itself in Jon’s brain and he reached a hand out to stop him.</p>
<p><br/><br/>“Did you stop anywhere beforehand?” he asked. “Like the institute, o-or maybe Tim’s place?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“No,” Martin replied, a puzzled look on his face. “Why?”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>“Don’t worry about it,” Jon closed his eyes and leaned back into the pillows, feeling utterly drained. “It’s nothing.”</p>
<p> </p>
<p>Martin exited the room and Jon tried not to think about the key he gave Tim ages ago, back when they visited each other with some regularity. </p>
<p> </p>
<p>And the idea that it was still on his keychain, waiting to be used.</p>
<p> </p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Hope you enjoyed! I had a lot of fun playing around with this one. Season Two is rife with angst-y and weird possibilities, I couldn't help it.</p>
<p>Let me know your thoughts! Always love to see your comments. I'm @voiceless-terror on tumblr for prompts/asks.</p></blockquote></div></div>
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